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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29980086">Something Blue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/clottedcreamfudge/pseuds/clottedcreamfudge'>clottedcreamfudge</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tooth-rotting Malec nonsense [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shadowhunters (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alec Lightwood is Good With Kids, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Babies, Cute Max Lightwood-Bane, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, Fluff, Found Family, Foundlings, Head of the Institute Alec Lightwood, Kid Fic, M/M, Napping, New York Shadowhunter Institute, Puppy Piles, Rain, Sleepy Cuddles, The Institute - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:14:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,719</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29980086</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/clottedcreamfudge/pseuds/clottedcreamfudge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yes,” Magnus says, and it’s not even an answer to the question he’s been asked, but it takes all the breath out of him to say it all the same. Forcing the word past the lump in his throat takes a Herculean effort, and Lilith below, his hands are shaking. He suddenly wants it - wants <i>this</i> - with a fierceness he barely recognises in himself. </p><p>➼</p><p>Something (b)old, something new.<br/>Something <strike>borrowed</strike> <i>kept</i>, something blue.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tooth-rotting Malec nonsense [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>372</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Something Blue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Some allusions to Magnus's past, including his mother and when Camille found him. Very vague, but be careful with yourself.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I can’t believe you nearly tripped over a <em>baby</em>,” Alec hisses, his bedraggled hair and the bundle of blankets clutched to his chest doing absolutely nothing to diminish the heat of his glare.</p><p>“It was dark,” Magnus says loftily, waving a hand to dry them both out after just a few minutes in the deluge outside. “Also, I was not expecting to find a <em>baby</em> on the steps of the Institute. I feel it’s quite <em>reasonable</em> to expect the steps of a magically cloaked church to be devoid of abandoned children, Alexander.” Alec’s face darkens further.</p><p>“Don’t use the word ‘abandoned’,” he says sharply, and Magnus raises his hands in defence. He’s actually struggling a little bit with seeing his handsome, dishevelled husband holding a very small child in those strong arms of his; the baby - who is <em>blue</em> - is completely dwarfed by Alec’s handspan. It’s quite a lot to deal with and it makes something in Magnus’s heart flutter dangerously.</p><p>“Apologies. Lost. Misplaced?” How does one misplace a baby, Magnus wonders? Especially one this <em>blue</em>.</p><p>“I don’t need a thesaurus right now, Magnus,” Alec says impatiently, turning so they can walk a little further into the Institute, Magnus falling into step beside him. “What I need is for someone to tell me why there was a warlock baby left in front of my Institute, in the <em>rain, </em>for Raziel even knows how long.” Magnus has to admit that’s a harder conundrum to unpick.</p><p>“There is a precedent for these things,” Magnus says honestly, though he doesn’t like how vulnerable he feels already, just in starting this conversation. “The Silent Brothers often take in foundlings, if you recall.” Alec shoots him a look that’s just a fraction softer than he’s managed so far this morning, and Magnus relaxes slightly, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. He has to remind himself that his husband knows him, down to his very core; he has nothing to hide here, nor does he wish to.</p><p>“Is that a substitute for family?” Alec asks, voice as soft as his expression, and Magnus shakes his head mutely. The child is small enough - somehow still inexplicably <em>asleep</em> after being found barely sheltered from the rain - that Alec can hold him in the crook of one arm; he reaches out with his newly extricated hand and tangles his fingers with Magnus’s, squeezing gently. None of the Shadowhunters around them spare them a second glance, which is presumably because they’ve seen weirder things in recent years than the Head of the Institute holding hands with his warlock husband, while cradling what appears to be a well-swaddled burrito.</p><p>“Alec, oh my - what in the Angel’s name-” Izzy greets them at the op centre, eyes widening as she spots the bundle in her brother’s arms; clearly, she has correctly identified it as <em>not a burrito</em>.</p><p>“Iz, can you pull up security footage of the front steps for the last hour?” Alec says quickly, letting go of Magnus’s hand so he can shift the baby’s position in his arms; Magnus hadn’t even noticed, but it looks like the little blueberry is starting to move towards wakefulness, one truly tiny blue fist clenching and unclenching just in view. The natural ease with which Alec handles the squirming bundle of blankets makes Magnus ache with something he knows better than to look at directly.</p><p>“It wasn’t…?” Izzy trails off, looking at the baby with mounting horror. The tightening of Alec’s jaw confirms there’s no need for her to finish that sentence.</p><p>She pulls the last hour’s feed, but it doesn’t help. The young woman who gently places the bundle on the front steps of the Institute does so with shaking hands, visible even on the less-than-perfect CCTV footage; she looks directly up at the camera, and the devastated look on her face is more than enough to settle the matter for everyone watching.</p><p>“That poor woman,” Izzy murmurs, and Magnus briefly remembers his own mother, how beautiful she was in her joy and how broken in her realisation of his nature. He’s inclined to agree with Isabelle.</p><p>“Magnus, can I speak with you in private?” Alec says suddenly, before marching off determinedly in the direction of his office without waiting for an answer. Magnus looks after him, bewildered, before following a few seconds later, shrugging at a frowning Isabelle as he goes. He enters Alec’s office just behind him and closes the door softly once they’re both inside the room; if the incomprehensible noises coming from his husband’s arms are any indication, the baby is entirely conscious now, but Magnus sees no reason to scare the life out of him.</p><p>“Alexander?” Magnus asks softly, because the look on Alec’s face right now is one he hasn’t seen in a long time. He looks conflicted, in that way he always did <em>before; </em>before he launched himself at Magnus in an elevator, before he told the world who they were and vowed to give himself to Magnus completely. It’s a look that reminds Magnus that, for all of Alec’s unshakeable belief in what they’ve built together, there will always be a small part of him that’s fighting against a lifetime of pretty powerful conditioning.</p><p>“I know we haven’t talked about this much,” Alec says, without any preamble, jaw still set and looking directly into Magnus’s eyes with that unwavering intensity that’s always made Magnus a little weak, “but I… how do you feel about kids? Not <em>generally</em>. I mean… Us having them.” He’s not stammering as such, but it’s like he’s so terrified of what the answer will be that he’s struggling to wrap his tongue around the syllables.</p><p>Magnus, with all the pieces slotting into place before him, lets himself think about that in a way he usually does not. </p><p>The idea had always been nebulous at best, something that he would likely never be allowed to have - not with anyone, let alone someone as perfectly made for him as Alec seems to have been. They babysit Madzie often, and Magnus always tries not to think about how good Alexander looks with her, how right it feels to see the sleepy, ruffled image of his husband clambering out of bed to see her when she has a nightmare. Clary and Jace have been talking about children for a while now, are already trying for their first, and Magnus had been horribly affected by the idea of even being an uncle; of being able to watch some possible future niece or nephew grow, to teach them how to dance and brew the perfect cup of Oolong, to give them a part of himself he’d assumed would never be needed elsewhere.</p><p>He lets himself think about the possibility of that part of him being needed now, and his heart <em>aches</em>. He looks back at Alexander, at his husband, who’s trying so hard to show he’s not scared of what comes next, and Magnus lets himself <em>think about it.</em></p><p>“Yes,” Magnus says, and it’s not even an answer to the question he’s been asked, but it takes all the breath out of him to say it all the same. Forcing the word past the lump in his throat takes a Herculean effort, and Lilith below, his hands are <em>shaking</em>. He suddenly wants it - wants <em>this</em> - with a fierceness he barely recognises in himself. The last time he wanted something this much, it was <em>Alec</em>, and while that desperate wanting is probably never truly going to leave him, it’s become part of the background hum of his daily life. This is fresh and sharp, filling the darkest corners of him and making the tips of his fingers tingle. It feels tangible and alive.</p><p>Alec looks a little bit broken now, but it’s the same fractured hope Magnus has seen in him a thousand times before. It precedes determination. </p><p>“Can we… Do you think we can do this?” </p><p>“Alec,” Magnus says with a shaky breath, taking the few steps forward that are required in order to close the gap between them. He lets his eyes drop to the bundle of blue in his husband’s arms, bright eyes staring at him with a placid interest that belies the child’s scant time on this earth. “My Alexander,” he continues, voice barely a murmur, dragging his eyes back to Alec and smiling perhaps a little damply, “I think we can do anything we put our minds to.”</p><p>Alec’s slow smile is breathtaking.</p><p>➼</p><p>They found the child, as she knew they would. She had been surprised, down the very atoms of her mortar, when she’d felt that unfamiliar pinprick of power approaching her front doors, but had known an instant later that there had been a <em>reason</em> for it. She had sheltered the child, ensured he remained dry and warm, and she had waited; her boy and his warlock would be here soon, and they would <em>find him</em>.</p><p>➼</p><p>There is <em>a lot</em> of paperwork. Alec had warned him there would be, but the fact that both the Clave <em>and</em> the Spiral Labyrinth are trying to get involved in proceedings means it’s been a bit of a nightmare. Throw in the fact that they’re a mixed-race, Nephilim-Downworlder, same-sex couple? Well, Magnus is fairly certain that even in the Mundane world, there would be some barriers there - although there are perhaps fewer blue babies in need of parents among plain old humans.</p><p>Through everything, Alec has refused to let Max out of his sight. </p><p>It had been funny, really, to find out his name. Inside the bundle of blankets, from which Max had been extricated eventually - if only because he desperately needed changing - there had been tucked a note that read:</p><p>
  <em>Please take care of Maxwell. I can’t. I’m sorry.</em>
</p><p>It had been devastating in its simplicity, and Alec had gripped the piece of paper so hard it had crumpled and torn, fissuring through the word ‘sorry’ where the ink had started to bleed out a little.</p><p>“Not many Mundanes would be able to deal with this,” Magnus had said, placing a hand over Alec’s and forcing him to relax his grip a little with each soothing pass of his fingers up and down his forearm. Alec had shaken his head and sighed.</p><p>“I know. I just… It shouldn’t have happened. It’s not fair to her, and it isn’t fair to Max.” Magnus had not been able to argue with that assessment. He had thought again of his upbringing, and found himself promising with every fibre of his being that he would become exactly the kind of father Max deserved.</p><p>The final piece of paperwork is done now, however, and Magnus sends it off with a tired wave of his hand to wherever on earth <em>this</em> one needs to be. He’s lost track after the sheer number of meetings and seemingly endless pieces of paper that have required their attention, signing his name so many times he’d have blisters if he actually had to use things like <em>pens</em> anymore just to make his mark. He turns to Alec, opens his mouth-</p><p>And closes it again.</p><p>Not for the first time in the last week, Magnus feels his heart constrict almost painfully in his chest. Max has been a little fussy today, grizzling for no real reason given that neither his teeth nor his horns seem to be giving him any trouble at such a young age; Alec has borne the brunt of it, keeping Max on him at all times, even as he’d signed every bit of paper Magnus thrust upon him and organised patrols with ruthless efficiency. They’re both of them tired, but Alec has been determined not to show it.</p><p>He’s currently passed out on the couch in his office, Max rising and falling with his slow breaths where he lies on Alec’s chest, his hands curled into tiny fists. One of Alec’s huge, deceptively gentle hands spans the breadth of Max’s back, and there’s a blanket covering just the tips of Max’s impossibly small feet where it’s slipped down his body. </p><p>Alexander - his husband, and apparently now the father of his <em>child</em> - looks ethereal and peaceful in the light from the fireplace, the main source of light in the darkening room; the grizzly quality of their son’s mood seems mirrored in the grey and rainy weather outside, fat droplets of water hurtling to the ground just beyond the glass. Magnus notes that the fire has not had to be stoked or tended to for hours now, and he aims a grateful pulse of magic through the floor, even as he keeps his eyes trained on the tableau before him.</p><p>He wonders, just for a moment, if he would ever have made his way to that bridge so long ago if he’d known this would be waiting for him, in the end. Feeling the way he does now, even the memory of such sadness cannot hurt him, and he finds himself letting the memory slip just a little further away from his reality with one long, shaking breath.</p><p>He doesn’t think the bridge matters anymore.</p><p>He conjures up a mountain of blankets and pillows on the floor by the couch with a snap of his fingers, then quietly moves forward to place a gentle hand on Alec’s shoulder. He startles awake in the next breath, eyes snapping open and his body tensing slightly under the touch. Ever the warrior, even in sleep; Magnus feels so incredibly fond, even as he rolls his eyes a little at the display.</p><p>“If we really must sleep here, this will be more comfortable,” he murmurs in a low voice, sinking down into the nest of blankets and looking up at Alec expectantly. The look on his husband’s face moves quickly from just-woken confusion to sincere gratitude.</p><p>“Thanks,” he rasps, sleep-rough but still graceful as he somehow slides to the floor without disturbing Max; the quiet noise of pleasure he makes as he sinks into the pillows makes Magnus’s breath catch with a desperate longing that, for once, has nothing to do with getting Alec naked, and everything to do with the soft, sleepy contentment on Alec’s face. They arrange themselves around each other, Magnus turning on his side so he can sling a leg over Alec’s. He ghosts his fingers over the downy hair on top of Max’s head, so starkly black and striking next to his unusual skin, before resting his hand on top of Alec’s on their son’s back.</p><p>“The last piece of paperwork has been filed,” Magnus whispers, barely audible above the crackling of the fire and the hammering of raindrops on the windows. Alec turns his head slightly to stare at Magnus with half-open eyes, the smile on his face widening just a little as he takes in what that means for Max; what that means for <em>them</em>.</p><p>“Maxwell Lightwood-Bane, huh?” he muses, and Magnus has to kiss him then; can’t stop himself from leaning forward to press his lips to Alec’s for just a moment, because he loves this man so much, and he hadn’t known it was possible to feel this much and survive.</p><p>There’s a tremor beneath them, and Alec pulls away from him with a little huff of laughter.</p><p>“She’s reminding us to keep it PG in front of her grandson,” he says in response to Magnus’s questioning look, and grins at the affronted look Magnus then pastes onto his features.</p><p>“The audacity,” he murmurs, throwing a judgmental look at the ceiling. “After everything she’s done. It’s like she’s forgotten how we <em>got </em>here.” Alec gives a small, tired shrug, still smiling even as his eyes drift shut.</p><p>“Mm,” he hums noncommittally. “Go to sleep, Magnus.”</p><p>“I’ll take this up with her tomorrow,” he says primly, then does as he’s told, allowing himself to drift off in a bubble of warmth that he suspects has very little to do with the fire.</p><p>➼</p><p>Later, when the <em>blueberry </em>- though she does not understand why her boy and his warlock call him such - is crawling, she will have to take precautions. Lock the weapons room. Warm the floors for his hands and knees, which are very small, and may require further research to understand.</p><p>She will look in the <em>field mushroom</em> section of her library, to begin with. She will be ready.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a three-in-one prompt extravaganza that actually hurt me to write. I don't know why, it just gave me a lot of feelings??? Jo chose accidental baby acquisition (Max), rainy day snuggling, and napping in a puppy pile. I had to include this in the Institute series because there was always going to be a Max instalment, and... well. I missed the Institute.</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30978146">[Podfic] Something Blue</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambivalently_certain/pseuds/ambivalently_certain">ambivalently_certain</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/clottedcreamfudge/pseuds/clottedcreamfudge">clottedcreamfudge</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
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